Echo in My Thoughts
by TheToxicInterest
Summary: "What is wrong with me? Why can't I stop thinking of that evil, sarcastic grin? Why can't I stop envisioning her perfectly demonic green eyes?" [ScarlettxMax, or Scax.]


**I've finally written Scarlett/Max! It's one of my OTPs, so I hope I've done it justice.**

**I gotta say, this is a _way_ lighter story than what I'm known for. (Most of my works are dark fics about Mal or Scott, my two favorite characters). Anyway, enjoy the Scax!**

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><p>I have always found love to be a primitive notion, something that only the heroes of the world can feel. I'm an evil genius, a supervillain in the making—I would have no time for something as ridiculous as romantic love. Not when there's revenge to serve, innocents to torture, and sharks with laser beams attached to their heads to feed...<p>

After all, what use would it be to love? What's the practicality of it? With only so much time on earth, it would be foolish to waste precious hours gazing into some girl's eyes when you could be causing chaos. It would be idiotic to spend all of _my_ hard-earned money on stupid gifts for her when _I_ am the one in need of a new plasma cannon! And, of course, only someone insecure needs to be told over and over and _over_ how amazing they are by some starry-eyed girl. I already know how amazing I am! Just look at me! Look at this handsome (yet terrifying) face! Who else can make purple hair look this intimidating?! (Even if my odd hair colour _is_ merely the result of a lab accident gone wrong...)

I used to look at the flirting, revolting couples around my high school with even more disgust than I naturally show people. I would see them and remark, "Ha! What a stupid little emotion that only complete pedestrians can feel! Thankfully, I've been blessed with enough intelligence to know that love is nothing more than a fool's way to waste time."

Then I met Scarlett.

Even thinking of her now makes my palms turn clammy. It gives me the tummy wonkies in a whole new way, a _good_ way, which I never even thought possible.

I glare at the empty sheet of paper on my work desk, trying to focus on a new act of evil rather than the way Scarlett makes me feel and finding it near impossible. She's just... I don't know. She's Scarlett. There is no other word I can think of which fully captures her evil, her intelligence, or her grace.

Whenever people speak of romantic affection, they make it seem so wonderful. They say, "Oh! It's so fantastic and happy! It's like butterflies are dancing in your heart with lollipops and bubble gum!" Well, I haven't gotten any of that stupid stuff. Feelings for Scarlett have done nothing but mess me up (even though I've never admitted to falling for her, of course). It wasn't that old "love at first sight" myth that my mother insists she felt for my father either. If anything, I saw Scarlett as another rube at first. She didn't even stand out amongst the other contestants, looking nondescript and nerdy with those gigantic glasses and the hairstyle of a librarian.

I still remember the way she treated me at first, before I knew of her true intentions... She initiated our affiliation, smiling shyly as she complimented my evilocity. She was insistent "evilocity" wasn't a word, but I wrote that off as a lack of creativity on her part. Since she was the only one who paid attention to me, well, of _course_ I wanted to impress her a little. So I showed her my inventions, told her of the nicknames I'd been developing for myself, and she seemed to enjoy every second of it.

I mistook her friendliness for a crush—that was my bad. In my defense, she was always reading when I caught her alone; I assumed she was one of those "fangirls" who obsess over villainous heartthrobs such as myself. It was the only thing that could explain her willingness to be a part of my world, that open and interested way she had of looking at me... It was somewhat annoying, actually, to spend all of this time with a naïve girl indulging in her "bad boy" fantasy.

Nonetheless, I had decided she would work wonders as a sidekick. Why not? She was obedient, helpful, and booksmart: perfect second-in-command material. If only I had known the truth...

A shiver washes over me when I recall the _real_ Scarlett—glasses off, hair down, no longer the innocent bookworm I'd been pushing around. It was then that I finally noticed her eyes, so cold they could cause snowstorms in a drought... I remember her voice, so rough and full of hatred... Even her hair looked like a raging forest fire of madness.

In my haze, I appear to have written Scarlett's name all over the paper on my desk. Ugh. What is _wrong_ with me?! Why can't I stop thinking of that evil, sarcastic grin? Why can't I stop envisioning her perfectly demonic green eyes?

(Would she be "perfectly demonic" or "demonically perfect"? They both sound right. As I said, no words can properly describe her brand of madness...)

I erase Scarlett's name from the page, but the marks are still sitting there, taunting me. How dare this pencil taunt a future dictator such as myself!? This revolting piece of yellow wood should be COWERING before me! Trying to erase the stray marks only causes holes in the paper, though... Angrily, I crumple up the stupid sheet and throw it across the room, uncaring of whether or not it lands in the trashcan. I attempt to break the pencil in half, but it holds strong, still mocking me.

"I am _not_ in love with her!" I announce as I throw the insubordinate writing utensil at my wall.

"You're not convincing anyone, Max."

I come to my feet with a yelp. No one's there—just my imagination again. Still, I have to concede that the words of my mind are true yet again. I'm not convincing anyone.

The things I found so stupid about love are now dominating my fantasies, mixing with my evil desires to form some kind of dark paradise. I envision wasting time gazing into Scarlett's eyes, talking lowly about the chaos we can cause together. I would gladly spend my money on whatever she desires, though it's more likely to be a weapon than some girly gift like a scented candle or something. I am not "insecure" in the slightest, of course, but if it were _Scarlett_ telling me how smart and devious I am...

"Grr, stupid brain! You sound like a schoolgirl!" I sit down and try to get back to work, but thoughts of Scarlett are dominating my mind the way I secretly hope _we'll_ dominate the world one day. My cell phone is sitting right there, as though waiting for me to pick it up.

I pick it up, scrolling through my tiny contact list to click on her name. Oh, just seeing it there in little yellow letters, _Scarlett_, is enough to make my anger dissolve like snails under an attack of salt. Putting the phone to my ear, I wait through several torturous seconds of mindless beeping, anticipating the most wonderful sound...

"Max?" Thank God she's not here in front of me, for I cannot disguise the admittedly goofy smile I get from hearing her glorious voice.

"I would like to proposition that we spend a little time together," I say in a firm tone. "That is, if you aren't busy. Which you probably are... I mean..."

There's no way she'll say yes. She thinks I'm beneath her—perhaps I _am_ beneath her, at least in some aspects. I'm a force to be reckoned with, but she will always be something far better, this strange new breed I cannot comprehend. She's a shooting star, burning bright enough to capture my gaze while floating millions of light-years from my grasp.

Dear God, what the _heck_ is happening to my mind?! My fantastic metaphors should be reserved for villainous gloating, not the worshiping of some redheaded girl!

"I'm not busy at the moment," she responds. "I'm just partying with my fellow teenage outlaws. Shooting drugs and the like. Drinking and driving. The same things I always do on a Friday night."

"W-What?" I can't put my confusion into words.

"Sarcasm, Max." She sighs.

"You know I can't understand sarcasm, woman!"

"Why do you want me to come over?" I can almost see her impatiently tapping her nails on the desk. "Do you need assistance with an invention?"

"Yes! That's it! An invention. What, were you expecting some kind of date? Ha! We both know evil doesn't date!" _Though it's increasingly difficult to uphold that rule the longer I know you..._

"Of course not." She snorts. (Okay, Scarlett is officially a walking symphony. This woman can somehow make _snorting_ sound _elegant!_) "I'll be over in five minutes."

"Excellent." Quickly, I add, "Wait, what do you mean 'of course not'?"

"What else would I mean? _Of course_ it's not a date. I'm far too evolved for such ridiculous things as romantic love. With only so much time on earth, it would be foolish to waste it gazing into someone's eyes when you could be causing bedlam and madness."

"Right," I sigh, smiling despite the negativity of her words. "I will see you in a few minutes."

"Indeed." She hangs up the phone and leaves me breathless.

_That_ is evidence, my friend. Her words on the subject of love echoed my own thoughts! She may be saying she'll never love, sure, but if our thought processes are so similar... Well, there must be _something_ there, right? There is some connection between Scarlett and I; she just can't feel it yet. But she will! I will make sure of _that!_

...somehow.

I put the phone down, not caring that I'm smiling like an idiot. I'll have to appear dignified when Scarlett comes over, so I might as well get this stupidity out of my system now. She certainly doesn't need another reason to think I'm an idiot anyway.

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><p><strong>Don't worry, Max, you and Scarlett are meant to be... She just doesn't know it yet. :P<strong>

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